


The First Taste

by seimaisin



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/F, women of dragon age challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-25
Updated: 2012-03-25
Packaged: 2017-11-02 13:02:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/369250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seimaisin/pseuds/seimaisin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the eve of the final battle, the Queen discovers there's comfort in thinking about first times, rather than lasts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Taste

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Women of Dragon Age Challenge. Title taken from the Fiona Apple song of the same name.

Anora and her guards met the army several hours outside of Denerim, at a now-abandoned noble estate. Everyone looked worse for wear, including Solona Amell, which somehow made the whole ordeal that much more real. The younger woman had never looked anything less than calm and collected, not in any of the brief interactions Anora had with her. But when the Grey Warden approached her outside of the stables, her eyes - which had always had a spark of humor, the few times Anora had met her, the kind of light that made her think Solona was constantly mocking the rest of the universe - were dull and nearly lifeless. There was nothing humorous about an approaching archdemon, Anora supposed. Still, she found herself smiling at the Warden, hoping to spark a response. “I’m glad to see you alive,” she said. “I was worried.”

Solona gave her a small smile. “Because it probably means your father still lives, right?”

“Well, that’s part of it,” Anora admitted. And it did lift her spirits more than a bit, to see her father behind Solona, dismounting and shaking mud from his boots. “But it is good to see you. You’re …” _A friend? An ally? Someone I care about?_ Anora couldn’t quite name the reason the sight of Solona Amell lightened her heart - no reason, really, but the tiny light that finally sparkled from Solona’s dark eyes. “Valued,” she finally settled on. Not the right word by any means, but one that was at least true, to a point.

Suddenly, Solona smiled. “Well, at least that’s something.”

Anora felt inexplicably proud of herself, for causing that smile. She turned at the sound of her father’s voice; by the time she’d finished greeting him, Solona was gone from the stables. And if Anora was slightly disappointed not to see her again before dinner, well, it wasn’t like the commander of this whole Blighted campaign wasn’t due a little privacy. Even from the Queen. 

 

The estate became very quiet after the evening meal. Most of the soldiers, per Erlina, had vacated the barracks in favor of the town tavern up the road. Anora made a mental note to send the tavern owner a bit of gold to cover the inevitable damage. That is, if anyone survived to care about the state of a country tavern. Anora banished that thought the moment it arrived. They would survive. Queen, soldier, and tavern owner all.

It seemed as if the only people left at the estate were the servants and the older members of the military, including her father, who retired to his room after dinner to, Anora assumed, observe his usual pre-battle rituals. So she was more than a bit surprised when she walked into the sitting room to see Solona sitting alone, staring into the fireplace with an intensity that nearly made Anora wonder if she was controlling the fire with her magic. But when Solona looked up, the fire remained strong, casting dancing shadows on pale cheeks. Her hair was bundled up off her face, but several wisps escaped from the knot to frame her face. “Your majesty,” Solona said softly, nodding and straightening her posture.

Anora waved a hand at her. “At this point, I think polite titles are unnecessary, don’t you?”

“All right. Anora.” 

Anora smiled. “I didn’t expect to find you here.”

“Where would I be?”

“The tavern, perhaps. Or somewhere else more populated.” Anora shrugged. “I somehow doubt that you subscribe to my father’s practice of quiet contemplation and weapon maintenance before battle. I would think you’re more the type to seek companionship.”

“Hmmm.” Solona turned back toward the fire, a small smile crossing her face. “That sounds a little more fun, yes.”

“Then I should leave you to it, then.” But Anora didn’t move to leave the room. She found herself strangely reluctant - something about this woman made her want to stay, to cross the room and sit on the bench next to her, share the heat of the fire and the weight of the day to come. 

Just as Anora was about to force herself to move, Solona looked up. “No, stay. Please.” She moved over on the bench far enough to make room for a second person. Anora couldn’t ignore the invitation. When she sat down, she felt the warmth of Solona’s leg pressing against hers. “Unfortunately,” Solona said, looking back at the fire, “I’m not sure my idea of fun is available to me here.”

“What do you mean?”

Her smile spread, and when she leaned forward, Anora watched the flames create dancing shadows across her pale skin. “Most here are men. They’re not my cup of tea.”

“What? … Oh.” Anora shrugged. “There are women here.”

“Yes. I’m particular, though.” Solona looked back at her. “Would you sleep with any old man, just because you wanted the touch?”

_I wouldn’t sleep with any of them, for any reason._ She didn’t say it aloud, but she didn’t doubt that Solona could guess. Anora … well, sex just hadn’t been a priority, not since Cailan died. And, if she was being honest with herself, it hadn’t really been a priority for a long time before, either. Cailan had other women for that. Anora couldn’t remember the last time she hadn’t slept alone, the last time she’d felt another person’s body against her own for any longer period than a chaste hug. She hadn’t missed it. Not, strangely, until now, with the fire warming her feet and Solona’s hip pressed snugly against hers. “I understand being particular,” she said. 

Solona just hummed softly and gazed back into the flames. “There was this girl,” she began, after a few moments of silence, “back in the Circle. We taught each other how to kiss. I remember laying in her bunk after curfew, curled up under the sheets, kissing and trying not to giggle every time our teeth bumped together or one of us misjudged distance and kissed the other’s chin. The first time I got brave enough to slip my hand underneath her nightshirt …” Solona trailed off, a distant smile playing across her lips. “It was enlightening, anyway.”

“My first kiss …” Was from Cailan, Anora thought. (As was her last.) He’d been twelve, and had just realized that being betrothed meant he would have to kiss her. So he mashed his lips to hers, for practice. It had been awkward, but luckily, he’d gotten better over the years. “Was not so entertaining,” she finished.

“Too bad.” Solona turned her head slightly and winked at Anora. “Everyone should have an entertaining first kiss, I think.” 

Only years of practice in schooling her expression kept Anora from blushing. The sparkle was back in Solona’s eyes, the one that always caused a warm weight in Anora’s chest. This time, though, with it came awareness - of her own body, of things better left unsaid, at least in this moment. Still … “There are all sorts of firsts in a person’s life,” Anora said.

She felt a curious pride when she saw Solona start. “I suppose you’re right,” she said slowly. 

Solona waited, though, until Anora took a deep breath, turned her head and closed the distance between them.

It felt inevitable, in the moment - like she’d always meant to kiss this crazy woman, ever since she’d laughed - laughed, sweet Andraste - and shoved Anora towards the door while Cauthrien charged her. Like she should have kissed her when Solona showed up at Eamon’s estate, covered in blood, with a fierce grin lighting her face. The lips that always smiled at Anora, even in the most improper situations, were warm against hers, quiet until Anora parted her own lips just slightly against them. Then, Solona took over, sliding a hand behind Anora’s neck and sliding her tongue lightly across Anora’s bottom lip before deepening the kiss into something far more sensual than Anora had planned. She couldn’t find it in her to mind, though, not when the slide of tongues against each other felt so very good.

This was different than the kisses Anora was used to; this was a slow heat, starting in the skin underneath Solona’s hand and melting down, down her spine and into the low warmth between her legs that Anora hadn’t had cause to notice or care about in quite some time. Her hands - fisted in the folds of her dress - itched to touch, to slide under Solona’s tunic and see how different another woman’s skin felt at her fingertips. 

Instead, though, she pulled back just enough to take a breath. “A much better first, I think,” she murmured. 

Solona laughed; Anora felt the sound vibrate against her skin. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Indeed.”

When Solona withdrew her hand, Anora was both relieved and disappointed. She smiled at Solona, letting some of both emotions show on her face. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure. Entirely.” Amusement danced in Solona’s eyes. “I don’t suppose I could talk you into another kiss. For luck.”

Anora laughed, but shook her head. “How about this?” she said, standing up. “Survive the next few days, and I may allow for another one as a reward.”

“Your majesty,” Solona said, “I’m fairly sure killing an archdemon would call for a larger reward than a kiss.”

On another day, the suggestion would have been insolent beyond belief. But the warmth in Anora’s body remained, and the next day loomed large and black on the edges of her awareness. “For a dead archdemon,” she said, inclining her head, “I could negotiate.”

Solona’s laugh echoed through the room. “Then I will look forward to negotiations.”

By the Maker, so would Anora. “Sleep well,” she said, before turning to leave the room. “My thoughts will go with you tomorrow.”

Solona didn’t respond, but simply touched a finger to her brow in acknowledgment. Anora turned to go; when she reached the doorway and glanced over her shoulder, the Warden was once again staring into the fire. 

It took a long time for sleep to claim Anora that night, but when it did, it floated in on a dream of soft lips and a wisp of a joke shared only by two.


End file.
